The world tilted as Alex pushed the trapdoor open. The wind, which had been a distant whistle against the glass now rushed up to meet him, a physical presence that tried to push him back. Below him, the steel staircase away into a dizzying hundred-foot plunge. Each step looked slick and impossibly small.
For a moment, he hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to slam the door, bolt it shut, and hide.
"Alex? Don't do this," Elara's voice pleaded in his ear, a faint crackle from the handheld radio he'd clipped to his belt.
Her fear, so raw and real, solidified his resolve. He couldn't let them both be paralyzed by this thing. He swung his legs over the edge, his booths finding the first grated step with a loud, metallic clang that seemed to echo across the entire wilderness. He gripped the cold handrails, his knuckles white.
"I'm on the stairs," he said into the radio, his voice tight. "Just... keep watch. Tell me if you see anything. Anything at all."
The descent was the most terrifying journey of his life. The tower, his sanctuary, swayed almost imperceptibly in the wind, a movement he'd never noticed from inside. The ground seemed to rush up and fall away with every step. He didn't look down. He focused on the steps, on the feeling of the cold steel under his hands, and on the sound of his own breathing. He forced himself to move slowly, deliberately, making as little noise as possible.
Halfway down, a crow cawed from a nearby tree, and Alex almost jumped out of his skin. His heart hammered against his ribs, and he froze, pressing himself against the railing as he scanned the woods below. He saw nothing but trees and shadows.
"What was that?" Elara's voice was sharp.
"Just a bird," he breathed, thought it had sounded like an alarm. He took another step, then another.
When his feet finally touched the soft, damp earth of the forest floor, the change in perspective was staggering. The trees, which looked like a green carpet from his window, now towered over him like ancient, silent giants. The tower he had just left loomed above, a spindly metal skeleton against the bright blue sky. He felt small, exposed and terribly vulnerable.
He crept forward, moving from the cover of one tree to the next. The air was thick with the smell of pine and decay. The silence here was different, deeper. He finally reached the massive aspen tree.
Up close, the symbols were even more disturbing. They were gouged deep into the bark, the edges raw and splintered. He reached out a trembling hand and touched the newest carving—the crude drawing of his tower with the line scratched through it. It felt like touching his own tombstone.
He knelt to examine the tracks. They were just as he'd seen from above: long, narrow with three sharp-toed points. But now he could see the depth, the sheer weight that had pressed them into the soil. He could also see something else. Caught on the rough bark near the lowest symbol was a small tuft of coarse, black hair, stiff as wire. It didn't belong to any animal he knew.
As he was about to pluck it from the tree, a new sound cut through the air. It wasn't the monster. It was distinct, sharp crackle of a radio, followed by a man's voice. It was close.
"...patrol team B, what's your 20? We're sweeping west from the ridge."
A search party.
Alex's blood ran cold for an entirely new reason. He wasn't supposed to be here. Leaving the tower unattended was a fireable offense, and being found skulking around in the woods during a search and rescue operation would be impossible to explain. He was caught.
He looked back at the base of his tower. It was fifty-yard dash across open ground. He had to get back up those stairs before the patrol team came trough the clearing. He had to move, now.